Things were moving much too fast.

Morru S'mec marched toward her room, her small nose raised in defiance, every step exuding confidence and pride, her very bearing the epitome of coolness and strength.

She was going to throw up.

After all the things that had happened this day… Jedi and Sith… lightsabers and lips…

Well, at least her alliterative skills had not been damaged any.

Her duty was fulfilled, her debt was paid - one kiss, delivered on demand. Just her first kiss, stolen from her along with her dignity and reason. That's all. Nothing to be upset about.

The hyperventilation began before she could reach the privacy of her bedroom.

Over and over in her mind the pictures played, memories of past events melding irrevocably with the present and possible events of the future. That one kiss had been wonderful, no doubt; Morru was a big enough girl to admit that she had enjoyed it (enjoyed him, her mind whispered evilly), but she had to wonder if the Sith would be taking the same approach with her if he had known a little more of her history.

Ignoring the lurching sickness in her stomach, Morru stumbled into her room and collapsed on the floor on all fours, trying to will the nausea and gasping away.

It was not merely this minor loss of innocence which was making her so very ill. Morru S'mec had the kind of mind which viewed no single incident in a solitary light, but always sought for the gossamer-precious threads of connection, linking past and present to future to create a web of understanding. Allowing her shaking elbows to relax, Morru rested her forehead on Anomaly's warm, soft floor. The images in her mind were spinning so fast, coming on so strong and all at once. If only they would stop….

***

Maul was not going to make it back to his room with all his dinner intact, he was sure of it. Images of such intensity as to nearly blind him slammed into his mind with an almost physical force, sending him reeling into the soft, warm walls of Anomaly's insides. Pushing away from the wall, Maul successfully navigated some five more steps when another image, this one accompanied by distant screaming, disoriented and confused him; panting, he overbalanced and landed on the floor on his hands and knees.

He knew where they were coming from. It did not matter that he could not often make out what exactly he was seeing in these images; it did not matter that even when he could make them out, he did not recognize the characters involved. These visions were akin to the one that had shot through Morru's mind when he had kissed her earlier that night. They were windows - rooms with a view that opened onto nightmare depths of Morru's soul. It was obvious that what he and she had done that evening had reopened some kind of suppressed memory or nightmare in his intended bride. Maybe she was going mad.

To be honest, the prospect of Morru going insane did not bother Maul all that much; it was her womb and not her reason that held his interest. But why in the hell he should be hit by wave after wave of these waking dreams that weren't even his…

Raising himself to a kneeling position, Maul paused. The… connection between them… was this what it meant? Already he knew when she was in danger; and thanks to the events earlier that night, he now knew that he also was connected to her pleasure, thereby increasing his own when they were together. But would he also experience her insanity? Her terror?

Her pain?

For a moment Maul tried to imagine what it would be like to vicariously experience childbirth.

If it weren't such a horrible thought, it would have been funny. And then an even worse thought hit him: what if she really did go mad? What would become of him then? Would he join her, driven to insanity by an irrepressible collage of nightmare images and sounds?

Would Sidious then replace him with Skywalker and remove from Maul the glorious name of Sith forever? Oh, you bet your ass he would.

Maul snarled, clenching his fists and baring his teeth at the bare wall in front of him. And then, with as little warning as when they had begun, the images stopped. Just stopped.

Blinking in surprise, Maul raised one leg and planted a boot on the floor in preparation to rise from his kneeling position. And just then, with monumentally bad timing, the bare wall he faced suddenly shimmered in its center like a disturbed puddle and opened to reveal the Lord of the Sith, Darth Sidious, standing framed in the doorway before him.

Maul was taken by surprise. He had been so concentrated on Morru that he had not even felt Sidious coming.

"Ah… my master," said Maul, inclining his head.

"Lord Maul," nodded Palpatine, a smile in his voice. "My, my - you haven't shown me this much respect in days," he said, raising an eyebrow at Maul's humble position.

Maul did not know what to say. If one of Morru's crazy visions hit him now…

"Do you happen to know where our Miss S'mec is, Maul?"

What? Why did he want to know that?

"I do not know, my lord; I have not seen her in my wanderings tonight." Which was not strictly untrue - he had only been wandering per se since after the kiss, and he certainly had not seen her in that time.

Palpatine tilted his head to the side and regarded his apprentice keenly. "You seem agitated, my servant." And he waited.

Well, Sith were supposed to be good liars….

"This ship, my lord. I cannot endure being cut off from the Force like this for much longer - dizziness is beginning to accompany even minimal physical exertion." Okay - a lovely combination of true facts and bogus reasons. Now, to see if the elder Sith Lord found it to his taste.

Palpatine continued to regard him for a moment longer, then, with a small nod, swallowed what his student fed him. "I, too, have felt disorientation due to that separation. Do not over-exert yourself while we are here, my servant. You still will have a battle to fight if and when we are rescued from this ship. Although," he said, looking up and around him as he spoke, "I would prefer if the ship itself could be saved; it could be… useful to me. At this point, we have no way to get to Maldad, to threaten or persuade him in any fashion. I feel that once Morru has been taken, however, we will have a much better chance of gaining control of this situation." His gaze returned to Maul once more, and his expression grew very intense. "Much will rely on you, my servant," he said quietly. "I cannot risk the consequences of my identity being revealed; the slightest chance of any of the Jedi surviving with that knowledge would be catastrophic. Therefore, it is no exaggeration to say that your survival is in your own hands and any success we have here depends on you." Apparently satisfied that this declaration required no explanation, Sidious walked past the kneeling Maul and away.

Well - wasn't that interesting. Apparently laboring under the delusion that he alone had limited access to the Force, the mighty master of the Sith did not seem to realize that everyone officially not Jedi had also been "reinstated," as it were. His senses should have tipped him off, but apparently the Chancellor was not bothering to check on those around him.

What a stupid tactical error.

Maul stood to his feet, silently cursing as he swayed a bit. Morru. He had to get to Morru. One way or another, he would sort out all of this mess, and he would do it before Maldad tried to take her. If she really were going mad, it would necessitate extreme action on his part. Perhaps - heaven forbid - he would have to give up on her and find another way to gain his own replacement. He would have to somehow sever the connection between them, cut himself off from her, get free. Kill her, if necessary.

It wasn't until he was right outside her room that it occurred to him he might not be able to.

* * *

Morru sat on her bed with her back to the wall, her knees drawn up to her chin. She had finally been able to quell the memories that had been making her suffer so, but she could not help being afraid of what might happen to her the next time. For she had no doubt there would be a next time - none at all.

Of course, there was no doubt that he would try again, bastard that he was, but that was not what worried her. Even this short psychotic episode of hers tonight - well, that was only to be expected her first time. Er, her first kiss, she corrected herself viciously. In fact, Morru thought to herself as she contemplated her future, whomever it was that she finally gave herself away to would have to be very careful not to…

Her door slid soundlessly open, and there before her stood the source of the evening's latest festivities: Darth Maul. Happy, he did not look.

She met his gaze and waited for him to speak; his visit, his conversation. It did not occur to her until much later that she had already progressed to the point that she took his presence merely for granted.

When he did say something, however, it took her by surprise.

"Are you well?" he said with more concern than his expression would seem to indicate.

She blinked.

"Well?" she said. "Well? What in all the fiery hells of Riegal 7 do you mean by that?"

Maul continued to look at her. Morru began to think that the more one looked at his face, the less sure one could be of the expression planted there.

"You have recovered?" he said.

Her mouth gaped open before she remembered herself and regained her hard expression.

"Recovered? From what?"

"From your memories."

Now she blinked at him again. Maul had to restrain a smile; she looked so very young when she was surprised.

Morru was simply too tired to wield artifice after a day like this one; not attempting to be coy or difficult, she sighed, stretched out her legs, leaned back against the wall, and closed her eyes.

"And what do you know about my memories?" she asked in a voice too weary for her age.

"I know that they cause you great pain." She opened her eyes and raised her head to look at him; her expression was naked, without defense.

"And this means what to you?"

Maul was pleased; this conversation was going even better than he'd planned. He cocked his head slightly to the side and smiled; she blushed.

"Your discomfort is always of my concern. You are mine."

She opened her mouth as if to reply, but instead only gave an exasperated sigh and, pulling her knees back up and closing her eyes, leaned her head back against the wall.

"Please go away," she said quietly.

He stayed where he was.

"I know what you fear," he said just as quietly, but with infinitely more timbre.

"What do you know about my fear?" she asked in a bored, humoring voice.

"I know it binds you to yourself," Maul said, not quite sure himself what he was saying. This was, if he correctly recalled the vernacular, shooting off the cuff. "I know that it hurts you," he continued. "I know that it keeps you from freedom of mind and body." He walked into the room, timing his steps perfectly to the silent shoop of the closing door behind him.

Hm. This night's ordeal must have tired Morru more than either of them had earlier thought; she sat on the bed, knees still drawn up to her chin, looking up at him. Defenseless, in every sense of the word. He stopped right above her. "I know that she keeps you from being truly free."

Morru just looked at him. "You saw."

"Yes." Morru did not bother to ask how he had seen what he had seen. "Do you know what it was you saw?"

Maul's expression did not change, but being this close to her, not grabbing or fighting for but just standing near her, was doing something very strange to his psyche. This connection… he only now, when it was too late, began to realize just how dangerous it was for him.

"I know what I saw," he said, with a voice that was almost… compassionate.

"Do you know who you saw?" she asked him, unblinking

Maul was silent for a moment; she was challenging him. Daring him to guess…

"Your mother." The answer came from him unbidden, sprung from some deep fountain of instinct over which he had no control, but the moment he spoke it, he knew it was right.

The rape… the horrible screaming… the blood… And she had seen this? Of course - what else would have driven Morru to risk everything and run away from Maldad? And then something else clicked into place: the varying settings in the dreams... the many individuals involved...

Many individuals.

There had been more than one incident.

Morru's gaze did not falter, but her eyes seemed to be changing their chemical nature right before his gaze; at least, it appeared that they were turning… crystalline in nature.

It took him a moment to realize she was crying.

She never lost control. The renegade tears did not escape to slip down her cheeks, to leave small trails streaked across the rosiness of her features. But just the fact that this was happening at all, that she was this naked before him....

"How many times?" he asked quietly, still unsure how to respond to this sudden display of vulnerability. He was not sure if he liked the way it was making him feel.

"I don't know. I lost count after twenty." She took a deep breath. "He - Maldad - used to have these big parties..."

And then she told Maul of many things which he knew already, things about Iridonian culture that would horrify any individual claiming to be civilized. About what it really meant to be a "pleasure" slave - how, beginning with the "breaking in party," slaves of that caliber were expected to be the perfect host or hostess all day long, spurring stimulating conversation and inspiring greatness in everything from food to art. How, after the nightly galas which were so much a central foundation of Iridonia's upper-class culture, a slave could be picked, chosen... to provide entertainment of another kind for the rest of the evening, to a select one or few.

In this, the conscripted individual involved was also trained thoroughly well.

All this Maul knew; but then Morru began telling him things that he did not know. Things about Ungrid Maldad.

The depths of Maldad's perversions had never been truly plumbed. He was one of the few individuals in the universe Morru truly feared - not because of who he was, but what he had done.

He had, for reasons unknown, taken a liking to Morru's mother, Anna. That is, he had taken a liking to being the instrument of her pain.

He enjoyed watching her being raped a la gang context at least once a month. And as he was at that time one of the most well-to-do and popular of the nobility on the planet, the context necessary to attain this was very easily created. Always sure to provide a liberal supply of mentally and morally debilitating alcohol and drugs to the more favored of his guests, Maldad was guaranteed a show at the end of every party.

Maldad himself would rarely participate, however; he merely stood off to the side and watched. And when he did participate, it was never in the normal way of a man with a woman. He never had sex with Morru's mother.

He just... did things to her.

And there was even worse than that.

"He used to make me watch," Morru said, her own voice filled with wonder at why she was telling Maul these things. "He took some sort of sick pleasure in making me watch what they did to her. And then..." her breath caught, her chest hitched, and for the briefest of moments the images threatened to overwhelm again. And with a gargantuan effort of willpower, Morru forced them down.

"And then, when I was thirteen standard years old, they raped her to death. Right in front of me. She started hemorrhaging, but everybody was so high on the drugs and alcohol that they didn't stop. Not even when the blood was spilling out of her every time they pulled themselves out..."

The images which she was suppressing so valiantly were still seeping bit by bit into Maul's mind. He now realized what made them so powerful: the depth of emotion accompanying these memories - hatred, love, guilt, shame, fear, anger - were all of an intensity so extreme that one of them alone might have driven a normal human mad. And yet, there Morru sat, relating these things to him calmly and rationally; she felt them, yes - but she had control over them, not the other way around.

Darth Maul realized at that point that he had no inkling as to how strong Morru actually was. And he began to see why it was that his simply taking the kiss instead of waiting for her to ready herself to give it to him had been a very, very bad idea.

"... and she died," continued Morru, her voice wobbling now ever so slightly. "She died right there, even unable to cry, and I wasn't allowed to go to her. And Maldad just stood there, watching, like always. But then he turned to me, and he told me that in three years' time, when I was of age, he would take great pleasure in personally introducing me to this world of pleasure himself. The bastard actually had the nerve to call it pleasure. But I knew... I'd seen him at work, in his lab, in his home... I've seen the types of things he does - he loves to make living creatures suffer. And he really seems to believe, in the back of his mind, that they enjoy what he does to them. The things I've seen him do.... and I knew," she pushed on, forcing back the choking sob that momentarily threatened her steadiness. "I KNEW that he would make me suffer. That even what he had done to my mother was nothing compared to what he would do to me. If you had seen her scars..."

And she stopped. Closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. Then suddenly, she looked back up at him again, and her eyes were once again her own. She seemed quite shocked that she had shared this part of herself with Maul.

Neither moved for a long moment.

Then, she apparently decided to take the simplest approach to this potentially uncomfortable situation: it never happened.

Slowly (and, did she but know it, seductively) she stretched out her legs, raised an eyebrow at him and said, "Why the hell are you still here?"

Maul stood in silence for a moment. The images were gone, and so too, was that strange debilitating connection that had earlier weakened him so. It was almost as if in narrating them, even to the likes of him, Morru had somehow been able to cleanse them from her system - and so also, his.

But there needed to be more. Maul knew that if he simply walked out now, she would hate him; hate him because he had caught her vulnerable, hate him because he knew things no one else in the galaxy knew but herself and Maldad; hate him because always and forever such knowledge would give him some measure of power over her.

Not that a little hatred was a bad thing, Maul mused. It could actually make sex rather spicy when lust and hatred mixed; pain and pleasure, the perfect combination. But bitterness would keep her will from him, and that was not what he wanted.

He finally answered her question.

"Because there is something I have yet to give you," he said, the tone quality of his voice landing safely within the realm of seductive and just shy of possessive.

Morru took a deep breath as though to protest… and then she saw the look in his eyes. She could not easily interpret it, but there did not seem to be any harm for her in those eyes.

No harm? From the Sith? What was wrong with her tonight?

"Please, Morru," he said, amazingly managing not to shudder at his use of the hated word please. "Trust me," he said, and, bending at the waist, leaned a little bit closer to her.

"Why should I?" she said steadily. This was stupid, wrong - what was she just sitting there for? Why wasn't she kicking, screaming?

The voices were working overtime. Whatever limited powers Maul had on this accursed ship Anomaly, he was now bending them fully toward Morru - and the amazing part was, she was letting him. Maul now understood that there was no way he could ever bend her to his will; she was too strong for that. But she would, as the ancient manuscript said, have to give herself to him willingly.

Willingly...

"You should trust me," Maul said, now close enough that she could feel his breath on her face. "Because I own you. I owned you before you were born. I owned you before Maldad ever set eyes on your mother or knew her name. I owned you before the Jedi were even created to curse the world. I have owned you for eternity, and for eternity, you are mine."

A load of bantha poodoo, that's what that was. But the logic of it did not matter - the power behind it was stemming from his desire for her and her need for him - for she did need him. She needed him, and would never, ever be able to admit it to anyone, least of all herself. She needed his strength, the strength of one stronger than she; she needed his darkness; she needed his power; she needed to be owned.

Lips slightly parted, Morru watched him coming closer, and still did not protest.

Oddly, she did not want to.

But that did not mean for one moment that she was not in control of herself.

"And what exactly do you think you have to give me?" she challenged him in a cold, rational, not at all aroused voice.

Maul almost stopped then. She was testing him again. Why? If she were testing him, then that would mean that she was seriously considering what he had to offer. Why now ? Why this sudden change of heart? And more importantly, could he trust this apparent acquiescence?

He answered her.

"I give you a new dream - a memory to replace the old one." Glad he had thought to remove his gauntlets earlier, he reached up and gently brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. She gasped and her eyes widened ever so slightly.

"I give you a new vision; new sensations; new experiences that will forever erase the old from your mind." He leaned until his face was all but touching hers, now gently cupping her cheek with his hand. Neither moved.

"I will give you freedom within myself - but only if you are willing to receive it."

And he waited.

Morru was privately furious, with herself or with him she did not know. What was she doing? Why was she sitting here and putting up with this? Why had she been talking to him at all, for that matter? This evening's behavior was not at all typical of her, and, now that she thought about it, probably not at all typical of him, either. The moonglow, she decided, that's what it was. Had to be.

And still he waited.

For a moment, Morru wavered. Would it really be so bad? What this life promised her was not worth living for, anyway, most of the time. It was hard toil and weariness, living in constant fear that she would be enslaved again and made to meet her mother's fate.

And what was being offered before her here? Certainly not love - well, that was fine. She could live without love. With the exception of her mother, she had lived without being loved all her life - and considering what a exploitable weakness it was, she felt she could quite contentedly live without it for the rest of her life, as well. He offered her security, that was true - pampered imprisonment. But again - was that really so bad? The Jedi would become her enemies - well, yes, that could be a problem. But judging by their behavior toward her of late, there was nothing she could do to prevent that anyway. They seemed to have already pronounced her guilty.

Then Anakin's innocent face floated before her mind's eye, bringing with it momentary stabs of guilt, betrayal. Only for a moment.

The waves of promised pleasure coming off the man in front of her (the man - that was the first time she had allowed herself to think of him - of the Sith - in such a fashion) were so palpable as to make her dizzy with her own body's desired response.

Thoughts of Obi-Wan did not even intrude.

Suddenly too warm and a little uncomfortable, she wriggled ever so slightly, never losing eye contact. It was obvious at this point that she wanted what he wanted - that, heaven forbid, Morru was consciously bending her will to his own.

And yet, still he waited.

Freedom within himself - freedom in possession. Was that possible? What did that mean?

Did it matter?

And suddenly all the events of the last three days caught up with Morru in a rush, focusing especially on a certain incident earlier that evening concerning Mace Windu and a lightsaber...

Mentally consigning Windu and all his kin to the depths of hell, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the person before her.

Kissed Darth Maul.

Kissed the Sith.

Kissed that man.

And now all that they had experienced before, whether (as in Maul's case) with others or (as in Morru's case) with only themselves, paled in comparison to the tidal wave of pleasure on which they now rode. Morru moaned slightly and unconsciously writhed against him in ecstasy, responding to her body's silent commands and sliding her hands around his shoulders to pull him closer, against her, on top of her -

His hands, which had started cradling both sides of her face, traced slow lines of liquid fire down her neck to her shoulders, sliding down her arms and around to cup her ribcage and pull her to him.

Morru wriggled, relishing the solid, powerful sensation of even a portion of his weight and warmth on her, willing him to reach up and slide off her shoulders the garment she now wore...

And he pulled back.

And it was Morru's turn to look surprised.

Maul raised one warm hand to once again gently cup her face.

"Not yet," he said simply. And then with characteristic Sith abruptness, he simply stood up and walked out of her room, leaving her disheveled and rather steamy.

The moment he left, whatever strange influence he carried left along with him, and Morru immediately felt shame...

Well, she should have felt shame, anyway.

Thinking for a moment, Morru discovered something most interesting: she did not feel guilty about what she had almost done tonight.

She was under no delusions; Maul was evil. He wanted to impregnate her, and then would probably take her child away and put her away in some cushioned tower someplace, safely provided for and imprisoned in luxury for the rest of her life.

And at the moment, as Morru looked around her, it didn't sound like so bad a deal. It wasn't guilt for her behavior she was feeling; the "good guys," had certainly given her no better - although of course, there would be no demon-spawn from them. The only negative thing she felt was sorrow and disappointment in those who were supposed to be her friends.

Morru shook her head. It must be the moonglow talking. This kind of thought process had to stop - it was too dangerous even to entertain (entertain? whispered her evil mind. You were ready to do more than entertain tonight, sweetie.)

At least, Morru reasoned as she cursed her rather vocal subconscious, morality aside - morality way aside - she now knew that she had at least one other way out, should she decide that the Jedi were not to be trusted.

It was amazing, though - what Maul had said about new memories had been right. She had not once thought of her mother this whole time. Perhaps it could work. Perhaps she would be able to....

And that's when she remembered her bracelet.

Remembered that no matter what she did, it would never come off.

Remembered that there was no way to ever remove or deactivate it without killing her - not even removal of her arm would be quick enough to avoid the lethal brain-paralyzing jolt.

And Maldad still held the little black box.

Closing her eyes and sighing with weariness, Morru rubbed her temples with her hands and decided that this day had gone on long enough. Turning off her light, she lay in the darkness and waited for sleep to come.

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